


the driftless, rolling north

by itisjosh



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Angst, Animal Transformation, Demons, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Humor, Forests, Found Family, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrids, Magic, Misunderstandings, Near Death Experiences, Paranoia, Spirits, Survival Horror, Wilderness Survival, Winter, adopted family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: The wind is too loud in Wilbur's ears, his heart beating too quickly in his chest.He hears the howling laughter of the creature that's been following him for days now.Terror rips its way into his chest, nestling deep inside of his heart.Wilbur tears himself away from where the laughter is coming from, forcing himself to keep walking.It's all he can do - keep walking.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Eret & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 33
Kudos: 216





	1. postal code

_The wind is too loud in Wilbur's ears, his heart beating too quickly in his chest._

_He hears the howling laughter of the creature that's been following him for days now._

_Terror rips its way into his chest, nestling deep inside of his heart._

_Wilbur tears himself away from where the laughter is coming from, forcing himself to keep walking._

_It's all he can do - keep walking_. 

Wilbur drags his feet along the ground, shivering as the cold bites at his ears. Snow flutters down from the branches, settling on his coat and hair. He listens to the snow and leaves crunch under his boots, and he winces every single time a stick snaps under his weight. Wilbur pauses, going completely still when he hears an all too familiar cackle, followed by high-pitched giggling.

He turns ever so slightly, his heart thudding in his chest when he catches sight of yellow eyes behind him from the corner of his own. Wilbur sucks in a breath, feeling himself start to shake, and not from the cold. He slowly turns his head back to face in front of him, taking in a shaky breath. 

He listens as the maniacal giggling gets closer and closer to him, the creature's laughter flooding his ears. Fear grips him, his legs refusing to cooperate with him. Panic signals flare louder and louder in his head, and Wilbur doesn't quite realise that he's already began to run. He sprints through the forest, desperate to escape the cackling and laughter of the beast. Wilbur knows that running doesn't do anything.

The creature has never gotten close enough to him before, and running just depletes him of his much needed, and limited, energy. Still, he can't help but sprint through the forest, cold biting at his face. The wind is harsh and bitter, and Wilbur knows that he's going to regret running. He always regrets it, but he can't help it. His survival instincts kick in, and he has to run, he _has_ to. If Wilbur gets caught..

He doesn't want to think about getting caught. 

Wilbur doesn't know what the creature is, but he knows that it's always able to follow him. He doesn't know if he's gone insane or not, if that creature is just a figure of his mind, something he's created on his own. Wilbur doesn't want to believe that his own mind is so capable of creating such a thing, but he knows that it's a possibility. He's so nervous all the time, he's constantly paranoid. Ever since he heard the creature laughing, he stopped all rational thought. The only things Wilbur knows for sure are that he needs to survive, and that he _needs_ to get out of this forest.

He gasps for air, keeling over. Wilbur plants his hands on the ground, his knees hitting the snow below him. He needs to stand back up, to keep running, but he _can't_. He wheezes, feeling cold air go straight to the back of his throat, making him cough and wheeze even more. He feels so lightheaded, so cold. The giggling starts to fade, and Wilbur feels his anxiety slowly start to straighten back out, adrenaline starting to disappear.

He drags his knees up to his chest, feeling his head spin. Wilbur can't get up. He's so, _so_ cold. He closes his eyes, pressing his head to his knees, his entire body shaking harder than it has before. He feels an ounce of warmth in his chest, slowly spreading to his entire body. Wilbur feels himself stop shaking, but he's still locked in place, unable to get off the ground. 

He keeps his eyes shut, figuring that he can rest for a little while.

* * *

Wilbur is annoyed. 

He's woken up to a blanket thrown over him, in an entirely different area than where he was last night. The giggling has subsided, which is the only bonus. Wilbur fully expected himself to die in the cold last night, an he wouldn't have minded. Now, he's somewhere else, and all of these goddamn trees look the exact same. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks, listening to the snow crunch under his boots. He shudders in his coat, wishing that it was warmer. 

He wishes that he was warmer. 

Wilbur isn't sure how long he's been here, out in this hellscape of a forest. He knows that it's been a week, at _least_. He doesn't remember much of his past life before here. He knows that he was on an island before the forest. That he had pets, that he was always angry and arguing with someone, until the end. Wilbur doesn't know why it ended, but it's too late to care now.

The name _New Milo_ haunts him, and he wonders if that's the cause of the laughter. Wilbur wishes he knew what the laughter was coming from. It only gets louder at night, loud enough for him to actually hear and be worried about.

In the day time, it's always subtle. He can hear it, sometimes, but it's never worrying. Wilbur thinks that it might be a forest demon of some sort, something that is here to protect the forest. It would make sense, but he doesn't _know_. Wilbur hates not knowing, especially when it directly relates to him. He keeps walking, smiling a little to himself when he hears birds chittering. He looks up at the pine trees, halting his steps when he spots a snowy owl, staring directly at him. Her eyes are nearly human. 

Wilbur knows that he should feel unnerved, but he doesn't. He feels..safer. Like he's being protected, almost. "Hello," Wilbur laughs, watching as the owl shifts on her feet. "I haven't seen you before," the owl stares at him, tilting her head. "Do you hear the laughing, too?" Wilbur asks, leaning back on his feet. He pauses, narrowing his eyes. He's really gone insane, hasn't he? He's talking to a fucking animal like it's a person. "This is dumb." He mutters, turning away from the snowy owl. He keeps walking, shivering as he does.

"I'll pick up my hiking boots when I am ready," Wilbur sings softly to himself, enjoying the noise. He used to play guitar. He doesn't remember if he stopped or not, or if he just lost it. "And I'll put down my roots when I'm dead," he murmurs, ignoring the soft chittering of the owl. "The distance is futile, come on, don't be hasty," Wilbur smiles, feeling less and less alone. He's always loved singing, it's one of his favourite things to do. He hasn't had a reason to sing in a long time. "You'll get that feeling deep inside your bones," Wilbur thinks he should sing more often. Even if he's alone, he can perform for himself. "I'll be gone then, for you must be al-"

Wilbur flinches, seizing up at the sudden laughter that fills his ears. He breathes in, the cold settling into his lungs. 

He starts to run once again, desperately trying to escape the joyous cackles behind him. 

* * *

The snowy owl doesn't leave him alone. 

Wilbur doesn't mind at all. 

He relishes in the company, and he finds himself talking to her more and more. Wilbur doesn't bother naming her, figuring that it would be weird. He thinks that she likes it when he sings, so he does it more often. He doesn't want to be alone again, even if his only company is an owl. "I think this time I'm dying," Wilbur grins, watching as the owl dives down to stand at his feet. "I'm not melodramatic, I'm just pragmatic beyond anything reasoning for thinking I've got fuckin' rabies or something," he stands still, smiling as he shifts in the snow. "Do you like it when I sing?"

The owl stares at him. Her eyes are blue mixed with green, and they're so, so human. "I don't sing much anymore," Wilbur explains. He crouches down to be at eye level with the owl, figuring that he should stop for the night. He has his bedroll on his back, even though it never helps keep out the cold. "I haven't had much of a reason to," he smiles, tugging the bedroll off of him. He rolls it out under one of the less snowy trees, brushing away some of the stray snow that falls down onto it. "I've been alone."

"And I still am," Wilbur snorts, shifting to lay down in it. He doesn't hear the laughter, thank god. "You're just an owl, aren't you? I'm going fucking insane," Wilbur stares up, wishing he could see the sky. The trees block out nearly all light, but he can still see the sun sometimes, if he looks hard enough. He doesn't know what time it is now, but he hopes that it's not quite night time. Night time is when the laughter comes back full force, and he fucking hates it. "You can fly off now," Wilbur turns, smiling at the owl. She's gotten a lot closer to him, standing directly in front of his face. "It's okay. You don't have to protect me." 

She tilts her head at him, moving to perch on his shoulder, her talons surprisingly soft and gentle. "Okay, okay," Wilbur giggles, closing his eyes. He lays himself back against the ground, his back aching. The ground of a forest has never been nice to sleep on, less so when it snows. How long has it been winter for? God, it feels like it's been forever. "Goodnight, then. I'll talk to you in the morning." 

Wilbur keeps his eyes shut, curling up in on himself. He hears giggling in the distance, terror striking his heart. He forces himself to stay, feeling himself start to shake. The laughter slowly starts to get closer, and Wilbur jerks up, startling the owl. He has to go, he has to-

The owl coos softly, her eyes meeting his own. He watches as she jerks her head around, emitting a nearly feral screech that he's never heard before. The giggling subsides for a second, before it starts to disappear. "You.." Wilbur watches as the owl waddles back towards him, resting her head against his shoulder. "Thank you," Wilbur whispers, feeling the panic in his chest start to disappear. "Thank you so much." He wants to cry, and he..he is, he is crying. He buries himself back under the bedroll's blankets, sobbing gently to himself. It isn't out of sadness, but out of joy and _relief_. He can sleep. He can sleep without worrying, and he..

Wilbur smiles, feeling less cold than he has in a while. 


	2. pale blue

Wilbur hasn't felt like this in a long time. 

Well, he thinks that it's been a long time. He isn't sure how long it's been since he set foot in the forest, but he doesn't care. The owl has been following him for at least a week, and he's so, so happy that she has. The laughter is still present, and he doubts it'll ever leave. But with the owl, she always keeps it far enough away from him. Wilbur is unbelievably thankful for her, and he doesn't know how to express that. He never thought that he'd feel so grateful for an animal, but he is. 

"I'm not sure how I got here," Wilbur murmurs, shivering in his coat. It's still freezing cold. He wonders if anyone else has ever been out in this forest. He wonders if anyone has ever escaped. "I think that I came here from an island in the sky. I lived there for a bit." He explains, trying his hardest to think back on those times. He barely can remember a time before the forest.

He hates that, he hates that he's forgetting himself, little by little. It pisses him off, and he wants to fix it. "I don't remember. Has anyone else ever come through here?" Wilbur asks, tilting his head to the side. He watches the owl hover in the air, staring back at him. "Don't look at me like that," he laughs. "Come on, now. It's not my fault. If you were trying to escape the same place for, what, months? You'd be talking to anything that breathed."

Wilbur rolls his eyes at the lack of response, though it isn't like he expected anything. He feels a lot..he feels happier. He isn't sure why, but he thinks it has something to do with the owl. She's never left his side once, and he doesn't know how to truly thank her for that. Wilbur doesn't know what he'd do if he woke up one day and she was gone. He thinks that he'd go insane.

It's a miracle that he hasn't lost his mind already, he's well aware of that.

Wilbur doesn't want to go insane, he doesn't want to lose himself. He knows that it's slowly happening, but god, he doesn't want it to. "I'm forgetting my past. I don't want to forget."

The owl stares at him, her wings beating gently. She chitters, a soft coo that makes Wilbur smile. Her voice, if he can call it that, is always so, so soft. She's unbelievably gentle in every way. "Once I go insane," Wilbur starts, "you can leave me. I don't expect you to travel by a rampaging madman. But," he snorts. "I think I'll be dead by that point. I won't have the good idea to look for food, or settle down for the night. Insanity would kill me, and.." he sighs, looking up at the canopy above his head. The leaves block out the majority of the sunlight, but a few rays still manage to shine through. "Maybe that would be for the best. To finally give up. I don't think I can leave here."

Wilbur listens to the snow crunch under his boots, the familiar pattern soothing to his ears. He glances back up to the trees, watching as snowflakes swirl down, softly landing in his hair and on his coat. He knows that he used to like the snow, but he doesn't remember why. He knows that he hated it from where he came from, when he was living on the island. He remembers a few names. He remembers New Milo, he remembers Peter. Wilbur doesn't know what the names mean or if they were important, but he _remembers_ , and he's so glad that he does. "I used to play guitar," he tells the owl. "I don't know when I lost it, but I know that I did. I promise that I'm normally much more on-key," Wilbur laughs. "It's hard to sing properly when I'm going crazy."

He wonders if that's an overstatement. 

He knows that he's slowly losing his mind. Wilbur is aware of that, there isn't anything he can do to stop it. "Aren't owls supposed to symbolise death?" Wilbur raises an eyebrow, watching her carefully. "I thought I read somewhere that white owls symbolise endurance. And wisdom, of course. I feel like this would be much easier if I died," he sighs. "I'm tired of walking," he is. He's so exhausted of walking. He's sick and tired of it. It's all he does, and he never gets anywhere. "This forest leads to nothingness, I'm just wasting my time," Wilbur stops, standing still. "I'm just wasting my time," he repeats. "I wonder if you know that. You're smart," he turns to face the owl. "Do you understand? That I'm gaining nothing. I'm just.." Wilbur shoves his hands in his coat pockets. "I don't think I want to keep walking."

The owl stares at him, and Wilbur stares back. "You're not intimidating," he laughs, tilting his head back. "I'm tired of all of this. I think I'm going to let myself die," he smiles, staring at the snow that falls from the trees. "I don't have much of a reason to stick around anymore. I'm sorry. I know you liked hearing me sing," Wilbur winces when he feels talons in his arm, staring up at the owl. "What? I didn't-"

Wilbur stares at the owl, watching as she narrows her eyes at him. She starts to fly, going the opposite way of where they came from. "Where are you going?" Wilbur frowns, turning to follow her. "Wait, I- don't-" Wilbur starts to run, desperately trying to keep up with her. He runs as fast as he can, the wind chilling him to the bone. He feels so cold, he feels frigid. "Wait!" Wilbur shouts, flinching when he hears an all too familiar cackle. "Please don't.." he gasps for air, spinning around on his heels. Everything looks the same. Which way did she go? Where is he? He hears the owl screech, whipping his head around to face the direction it came from. Wilbur keeps running, exhaustion threatening to overtake him. 

He feels himself trip, he hears the giggling and laughter get closer and closer, and he- 

"Wilbur," a voice murmurs. "Come on. You're safe."

"What?" Wilbur looks up, staring at the face of a woman. Her eyes are..

They're blue, mixed with green. "You're.." Wilbur stares at her. "You're the owl. I've lost my fucking mind," he laughs, wondering why the laughter stopped. "Why.."

"My name is Niki," the woman, Niki, crouches down to be at eye level with him. "I've been trying to bring you back here. Welcome to Sanctuary," she smiles, and it's so soft and gentle, and..she's the owl. She's the _owl_. "This is the only place I can be human," she explains, offering him a hand. "You're safe." He looks around, staring at the area around him. There's no snow. The trees all differ, from birch to oak to redwood, and they're huge. They loom over everything, and their leaves are all orange and red and yellow. The air is crisp, a gentle breeze blowing over him. It's completely different than where he came from. 

Wilbur takes her hand, letting her drag him up. "I don't understand."

"I don't expect you to," Niki smiles. "I'm a guardian of this forest," she explains. "I protect the people who enter here and have good intentions. I keep them safe. I can't always find them, but I..I try."

"And you can turn into an owl," Wilbur frowns, raising an eyebrow. His head feels..clear. The paranoia that was eating away at him is completely gone. "What, you're a shapeshifter?"

"Sort of," Niki laughs. "Sanctuary is the only place where I can take on a human form. In the forest, I'm just..the owl."

Wilbur nods, thinking back to New Milo. He gasps, feeling years of memories flood back. He remembers releasing his only friend, his only companion he had in that desolate hellhole. He remembers Peter dying, he remembers a boy named Schlatt, he remembers water and lava and- 

"Okay," Wilbur breathes. "That makes sense. I guess. The laughing, can you.."

"That was Fundy," Niki sighs, looping an arm through Wilbur's. "He doesn't realise he does it. He's a fox," Niki smiles, walking slowly. Wilbur's thankful for that. "There are five of us in total."

He nods, pieces clicking together in his head. It would explain why he started to forget. If magic was at play here, which it _is_ , it makes sense. Why he became so paranoid, why he slowly started to forget. Why he had a constant urge to walk, to escape. Why he never managed to get out of the seemingly never ending forest. "Is this designed to trap and kill people?" Wilbur asks, frowning. "How long was I walking?"

"Three months," Niki murmurs. "I tried to reach out to you before, but you.." she shrugs. "It's hard to explain. Once you enter this forest, you never are able to leave unless a guardian walks with you. If they take you out of the forest, you forget everything. But if you reach Sanctuary, then.."

"Okay," Wilbur nods. "Are there any humans here?"

"No," she admits. "I never was interested in anyone else."

Wilbur pauses. "What about the other four?"

"They've never been interested in anyone, either." It's a cruel mindset, Wilbur thinks. To only save those who interest them. To only save people who are entertaining.

"Who are the others?"

"Fundy. He takes the form of a fox. Eret, he takes the form of a bear. Tubbo takes the form of a deer, and Quackity takes the form of a swan," Niki smiles. "Tubbo is the youngest guardian. Eret's the oldest. He's been here far longer than we have. I'll take you to them."

Wilbur walks through Sanctuary with Niki by his side, silently thanking her for everything.


End file.
